


Aimless Paths

by Whedonista93



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Canon - Movie, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonista93/pseuds/Whedonista93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Sons of Durin are laid to rest, Tauriel wanders Middle Earth with a rune stone in her pocket and grief heavy in her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ignorance

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I utterly adore a well-written fix-it in which everyone lives, I've found there aren't nearly enough stories that stick to canon and follow Tauriel after the battle. As of late, I'm particularly stuck on the thought of Tauriel seeking Dis. After I realized how few of these stories there were, I felt like I had to write one. First venture into writing Middle Earth fic (because I can't even dream of matching Toilken's brilliance), so show mercy if this is terrible. Also, I am very aware that Tauriel is NOT Toilken canon, but I never could bring myself to hate her like I wanted to when I first heard she was being added to the cast of characters.

News of the Battle of the Five Armies, as the bards were calling it, had spread. Stories and rumors ran rampant, some truer than others. Tauriel had heard most of them. She chose to ignore as many as she heard. They were not memories she cared to relive, and if people cared to romanticize such devastation, that was their own folly.

She wasn’t quite sure where she was anymore; she had wandered aimlessly since the Sons of Durin had been laid to rest. It simply no longer mattered. She was no longer welcome in Mirkwood – she need not be told to be sure of that. She had no desire to return there in any case. Legolas was forging his own path – she had no desire to deter him from it. Traveling alone suited her broken heart.

She tried to ignore the voices swirling around the tavern this night. It was easy enough to ignore the curious whispers about the she-elf traveling alone; she cared not what they thought. It was becoming a strain on even her patience, however, to disregard the ever more fantastical tales of the battle. Men and dwarves alike frequented this particular tavern, Tauriel idly realized.

A snatch of conversation to her right caught her attention and she listened more intently.

“The elves care for naught but their own. They aided only for the rewards of the Mountain.” one dwarf insisted. Tauriel tensed.

“And the dwarvish princes fought and fell for what, if not gold?” a man challenged. If Tauriel was tense before, she was near to snapping from the tension in her frame now.

“The Sons of Durin fought to restore our home!” the dwarf roared.

The man laughed. In his inebriated state, his sense of self-preservation seemed to have vanished and he turned his attention to Tauriel at the next table, “Tell me, she-elf, what think you of the motivations of those who fought in the Battle of the Five Armies?”

Tauriel turned a cold gaze on him, “I do not think of them.” She answered honestly, because she did not. If she did think of it, her despair would consume what little of her it had left thus far.

The man turned back to the dwarf smugly, “You see, elves are a heartless lot, and I’d bet my best horse those dwarvish princes of yours had no intention but to satisfy their greed. There is no honor in deaths for naught but that which shines.”

The dwarf sputtered indignantly and stood with one hand reaching for his axe, but Tauriel was already on her feet with her sword at the man’s throat and one hand fisted in his shirt. The fury that rose up in her was a blinding contrast to the numbing grief she had borne in months past. The fire in her eyes caused the man’s eyes to widen as he cowered back as far as he could in his chair.

“Do not speak of what you are ignorant.” Tauriel’s normally lilting voice became a fierce growl through bared teeth. “Elves keep to themselves. That does not render us heartless. We fought as fiercely as every dwarf and man on those plains. I had a heart once. It died with a dwarven prince in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain. A dwarven prince who died seeking to reclaim the home of his ancestors, to redeem his family’s honor, to avenge his brother’s murder, and to protect me.” Tauriel’s voice cracked on the last and she went on in a lowered tone, “Do not speak of what you could not possibly understand.” She shoved him back hard enough that his chair rocked. She drew her sword away but did not sheathe it. “Be gone before I decide to stay my mercy.”

The man did not need to be told twice. He scrambled out of his chair and vanished through the tavern door. Tauriel sheathed her sword and reseated herself as indelicately as her lithe frame allowed. Her hand closed around the rune stone in her pocket and she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed deeply. When she opened her eyes again, the dwarf the man had been arguing with was eyeing her curiously. She arched an eyebrow at him, too tired to project her usual imperiousness.

“Forgive me.” the dwarf inclined his head slightly, “Ye fought at Erebor?”

Her jaw tightened, but she nodded.

“I did not mean offense when I said ye fought for only the rewards.”

She laughed mirthlessly, “Yes you did. And I will not tell you that you were wrong. Thranduil fought only for the treasures he claimed were his.”

“But ye fought for reasons your own.” the dwarf responded quietly.

Her hand tightened in her pocket, and she answered just as quietly, “I did.”

After a moment of silence, “What do you seek here, elf?”

Tauriel’s lips nearly twitched as she looked up and met his eyes, “I do not even know where _here_ is. I paid no heed to the paths I have trodden since I departed Erebor.”

The dwarf hesitated.

“Out with it, then.” Tauriel demanded.

“Ye’ll find you’re just shy of the Blue Mountains, lass.” the dwarf answered gently.

Tauriel felt the breath go out of her as if she had been struck. Perhaps her wandering had not been so aimless after all.


	2. Familiar Eyes

“She-elf?” the dwarf questioned, something akin to worry tinging his voice.

Tauriel’s breath came back to her in a rush and she pried open eyes she was unaware she had closed.

She focused on the dwarf, forcing her tumultuous mind to the present, “Tell me, dwarf, am I far from where I might find the Lady Dís?”

The dwarf’s eyes narrowed, “What business might ye have with her?”*

Tauriel’s grip tightened painfully over the smooth stone in her pocket, “I don’t suppose it would suffice to answer I mean her no harm?”

The dwarf shook his head.

Tauriel nodded tightly, and she considered carefully before answering quietly, her voice shaking slightly, “I would offer condolences for her losses, and the rest is the business of none but myself.”

The dwarf considered her for long moments and she met his calculating gaze unflinchingly before he finally inclined his head, “She be not a day’s ride from here. I’ll escort ye my own self on the morrow if ye so desire.”

Tauriel inclined her head in return, “I would be much obliged, master dwarf.”

“Doin, if ye will, lady elf."

“Tauriel.” she offered in return.

*

Tauriel and Doin set off with the dawn. It was with immense gratitude that the elf looked upon the dwarf when he did not attempt idle chatter upon the road, and left her to her silence in peace. One hand gripped her horse’s reins too tightly and the other never released the stone in her pocket, except to reassure herself the bundle at her side was still securely attached to her saddle.

They stopped only once, briefly, for a quick meal and to let Tauriel’s horse and Doin’s sturdy pony graze and water. Neither paid heed to the curious looks of any they passed on the road. Late in the afternoon, with hours yet before the sun set, they stopped in front of a small cottage on the outskirts of a village in the hills of the Blue Mountains. Tauriel dismounted gracefully before noticing the dwarf woman seated in a study chair on the porch. When she did spot her, the very breath stole from her lungs, for it was not mystery which parent Kili had taken after. The familiar dark eyes that regarded her solemnly nearly caused her knees to quake.

Tauriel forced herself to tear her eyes away as she busied herself with tethering her horse and removing the bundle tied securely to her saddle. She used the time to take a series of deep breaths, in what she already knew was a futile attempt, to center and brace herself.

Doin watched her closely as she removed her bow and quiver from her back and hung them on her saddle horn and removed her swords from their sheaths, driving them upright into the ground in front of her horse. She carefully lifted the bundle she had set at her feet and silently nodded her thanks to Doin, who inclined his head back, and left without a further word.

She took one final steadying breath before raising her eyes to meet those of the dwarf maid on the porch and approaching slowly. Tauriel knelt before her and inclined her head deeply as she offered up the bundle in her hands.

She willed her voice to be steady, and cursed silently when it shook, “Lady Dís, I am Tauriel of –” Tauriel cut herself off, aware she could likely no longer claim Mirkwood as her home, “I am Tauriel. I fought alongside your kin at the Lonely Mountain. I come to –” she cut herself off again as emotion choked her words, “I come to offer condolences for your losses and return what I can of what is rightfully yours.”

She felt the bundle lifted from her hands and chanced to raise her gaze. Dís slowly unwrapped the bundle and Tauriel saw the tears that sprung to her eyes as she caressed Kili’s bow and Fili’s dagger.

“Their swords were entombed with them.” Tauriel offered quietly.

“As they should have been.” Dís’ voice rasped, strong despite the emotion that laced it.

Tauriel nodded mutely and looked up to finally meet the woman’s eyes. She could not bring herself to be surprised at the suspicion and edge of age old prejudice she saw there. She was surprised, however, at how little of it there seemed to be.

“Why did you bring me these, elf? There is no love lost between our people.”

Tauriel’s heart hitched at the use of the word ‘love’ and she found she had no words to answer. Instead, she drew the rune stone from her pocket and laid it in Dís’ lap atop the bow and dagger. Dís’ breath caught as she looked down on it.

Tauriel’s voice broke as she tried to offer explanation in disjointed sentences, “I did not intend to come here. I paid no heed to the direction my horse turned. I simply could not remain where… I knew not even why I carried the bow and dagger with me. It did not seem right to leave them hanging in a hall where no one knew their owners but by name and tale. Nor did it seem right to separate the weapons of two so close in life… He wished to… he did not… Kili had every intention of bringing this back to you himself. He so desired to keep his promise.” her voice cracked desperately on his name, and she realized it was the first time she had spoken it since he had fallen.

Tauriel found she did not have even the pride to stay the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, but looked to the ground nonetheless. The look on Dís’ face quickly morphed from suspicion to sympathetic understanding and she reached forward and gently lifted Tauriel’s face with a hand almost surprisingly gentle for its rough, work-worn callousness.

“You cared for my boy, lass?”

Tariel was only vaguely aware of how desperate her voice sounded, “I wish I did not, if it would but take the pain away.”

Dís shook her head, “You don’t mean that, child.”

Tauriel didn’t bother pointing out that she was centuries older than dwarf woman sitting before her, for in this, she was most certainly the child. She answered in almost a whisper, “No, I do not.”

“Did he care for you?”

Tauriel closed her eyes, the tears streaming freely down her face. She thought of speaking with him of starlight and remembered his delirious query as to whether she could love him.

To her surprise, Dís barked out a laugh before she had a chance to answer.

Her eyes sprang open.

“He would have to, to entrust you with this.” she lifted the rune stone in her free hand.

She patted Tauriel’s cheek almost affectionately before dropping her hand. The silence stretched between them for long moments, but neither felt the need or desire to speak. As the sun began to set Dís seemed to come to a decision and stood with determination.

Tauriel looked at her as she spoke, “Come along then. Your horse won’t fit in my stables, but the pasture’s big enough. I’ll have tea on and supper started by the time you’ve got him settled.”

Tauriel opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by a raised hand.

“I want to hear of my boys’ last days.” she said quietly, “Their last moments. You were there. You can tell me what the ravens and others cannot. Please.”

Tauriel fought the tears that threatened to fall again, but nodded and rose gracefully to do as she was bid.

Tauriel had heard tell of tales of the dead being a balm for the soul when shared with others who loved them as well, but as the sun rose the next morning, and neither woman had moved to rest, electing to spend the night trading tales – Tauriel offering tales of the battle and the time preceding it and Dís, alternately tearfully and laughingly, offering tales of childhood – Tauriel’s heart only ached more.

Dís reached across the table for her hand, “Give it time, lass. Time does not heal this kind of pain, but it does make it bearable.”


	3. Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, 1) SO sorry it took so long to get this last chapter up. I started a new job this week and things have been CRAZY. 2) That being said, I didn't really have time to edit this, so if you catch a mistake, please point it out, I'll get on it ASAP. 3) Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are love. ;)

“Tauriel?” Dís’ voice carried across the kitchen as she returned from some sort of elders meeting.

“Hmm?” Tauriel hummed without glancing up from idly sharpening her swords’ edges.

“You know the surest path to Erebor, do you not?”

Tauriel glanced up sharply and she answered hedgingly, “I do.”

Dís seemed to sense her hesitation and answered hesitantly in response, “Many here make ready to set upon that path, but it has been far too many years since any trod it…” Dís trailed off.

“You would have me act as guide.” Tauriel guessed.

“Only if you are willing. The ravens come bearing messages daily. Erebor needs the miners and the healers we have here. We set out in fortnight. I did not mention you to the council. I understand if you could not bear to return there.”

“You’ve precious few warriors and orc packs still roam the wilds between here and there.” Tauriel observed absently.

“True enough, but we can hold our own.”

At that, Tauriel smiled, “Of that, I have no doubt. Regardless, I would be honored to act as guide. I will not watch Kili’s kin fall where I could prevent it.”

* * *

The journey was slow-going. Tauriel took to training those dwarves who would learn when they set up camp in the evenings. She was only vaguely surprised at the discovery of Dís’ proficiency with an axe, and welcomed the dwarven princess’ help in training the others. More dwarves joined in on the session with the realization that Dís was involved. Tauriel predicted that Erebor would flourish under the dwarf woman’s influence.

*

Under the cover of darkness, Tauriel would often slip away from the fires to view the stars undiluted by the extra light. In these times she would remember the short time she had with Kili. She would grieve the future that was ripped away from them.

And, occasionally, she would speak quietly to him, trusting that wherever he was, he could hear her. It was only in these times that she quietly admitted the pain did not lessen as Dís had promised it would, but seemed instead to grow with each passing day.

* * *

They were less than a week’s journey from Erebor’s gates the ravens carried warnings of a nearby pack and urged caution. Not two days later, the orcs attacked. There were more orcs than they had expected, but the battle was more than even, and the dwarves proved worthy of their training. As the battle wound down, Tauriel turned slowly, surveying the damage, with the blood of orcs dripping from her blade. She idly realized she had dropped, or more likely left embedded in orc flesh, one of her swords at some point.

She fought panic when an orc thought dead rose with a roar and lunged at Dís. She did not hesitate to throw herself in front of the dwarf and bury her sword in the beast’s chest… at the same moment it buried its own stained blade in hers.

*

Honor was a powerful motivator among dwarves. And there were not many given higher honor than those who laid daown their lives for others. Regardless, few of the dwarves traveling from the Blue Mountains to the Lonely Mountain understood Dís’ anguished wail as the she-elf breathed her last, with a vague smile on her face, in the dwarf’s arms. Fewer still understood why their princess deigned to utter a Dwarvish blessing over the fallen elf. Even fewer still understood why the princess demanded the elf’s body be carried with them the rest of the way to Erebor. But none questioned it.

* * *

“You would have me _what_?!” Dain sputtered indignantly.

“You heard me.” Dís responded cooly.

“My dear cousin –”

“Don’t you ‘dear cousin’ me!” Dís snarled. “I will not be swayed on this!”

“Such a thing has never –”

“Nor likely will it again. Past and future are not my concern. My concern is the present, and this _will_ be done.”

“Princess –”

Dís raised a hand to stop him, “She put herself between the line of Durin and death countless times, and in the end, she fell for her trouble. She will be honored for it.”

The dwarves of Erebor would speak for centuries later of the shouting match between Erebor’s royals, but so it came to be that Tauriel, elf and dwarf-friend, was laid to rest beside the fallen princes in the royal catacombs of Erebor.

* * *

Tauriel tried to tell the dwarf woman holding her that it was alright. She didn’t know that the Halls of Mandos would offer her any more comfort than walking the earth had, but at least she would no longer wander the earth on aimless paths. But she could not find the words, so she simply smiled up at Dís, and closed her eyes.

With no manner of determining the time, Tauriel floated around in an indistinct grey mist, wondering somewhat helplessly if this was to be her afterlife. But in time, she became vaguely aware of warmth, as if from the sun, then birds singing, and eventually the solidity of warm stone. She opened her eyes slowly, and found herself in a courtyard. Gone were her blood-stained traveling clothes and sword sheathes, replaced by a simple, but elegant, green gown and decoratively tooled leather belt.

As she became aware of murmuring around her, she dragged her gaze from her skirt and found the courtyard was full of dwarves, eyeing her suspiciously.

Eventually, one leaned to whisper something to the young dwarf at his side, then stepped forward as the young one hastened away. He looked perhaps middle-aged, but Tauriel instinctively knew he was very old, and the other dwarves present clearly held great respect for him, if their stances were any indication, “How’d ye come to be here, elf?”

Tauriel opened her mouth to answer, and then realized she didn’t quite know how, “Forgive me, master dwarf, but… I’m afraid I do not know where here is.”

The dwarf’s eyebrows rose, “Yer in the Halls of Mahal, elf.”

“Mahal?” Tauriel repeated dumbly. “How?”

“I know not. Can’t say as I’ve seen it done before.”

Tauriel stared at him, not sure if he was expecting a response, and not sure how to respond if he was.

“How’d ye fall, lass?”

Tauriel closed her eyes and sought to recall, “I was guiding the dwarves of the Blue Mountains on safe paths to Erebor… an orc pack attacked. It was…. It was lunging for Dís. I… I jumped between…” Tauriel trailed off and opened her eyes.

The dwarves surrounding her were all eyeing her with open curiosity, and none of the animosity she was so accustomed to. Perhaps death had a way of eradicating such prejudices.

The dwarf speaking to her cocked his head quizzically, “Ye sacrificed yerself to save a dwarf… a dwarf of the line of Durin?”

Tauriel opened her mouth then closed it again and simply nodded. The young dwarf returned and spoke low and frantic to the old dwarf, frequently shooting wide-eyed gazes in Tauriel’s. To her surprise, the old dwarf threw his head back and roared with laughter.

He recovered soon enough and smiled broadly at Tauriel, “My stubborn granddaughter had you entombed beside her sons in the catacombs of Erebor.”

Tauriel’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Granddaughter?”

He nodded, “Ye fell protecting the last of my line. And if ye are who I think ye may be, it was not the first time ye put yerself between death and my kin.”

“Your lin– you’re Durin.” Tauriel realized.

The dwarf smiled. “And might ye be Tauriel?”

She nodded, wide-eyed and silent.

“Lass, the Valar has determined to place ye in the Halls of Mahal among my kin instead of the Halls of Mandos among yer own. Any imaginings as to why that may be?”

As understanding slowly dawned, a familiar voice sounded cautiously, disbelievingly, behind her.

“Tauriel?”

The first real smile Tauriel could remember wearing in seemingly countless months crept its way onto her face as she turned toward a dark haired dwarf with shining eyes.

“Kili.”


End file.
